Chapter 135: Kyle Emerges from the Cage

Switzerland, deep in the Alps.

Amid the frozen wasteland stood a castle built from black basalt.

Perpetual blizzards shrouded this place, cutting it off from the world.

In the castle's deepest recesses lay an underground death cell forged from a special alloy.

The heavy alloy gate was covered with mysterious runes inscribed by medieval alchemists.

Over a dozen steel chains as thick as a man's arm sealed the door shut.

With the deep rumble of mechanical gears turning, the chains snapped one by one.

The death cell door, sealed for twenty full years, slowly opened.

A wave of putrid air surged out from that sunless abyss.

Heavy footsteps, dragging shackles, echoed from deep within the dark corridor.

A towering figure emerged from the darkness that devoured all light.

He was a massive man, nearly six and a half feet tall.

Bare-chested, his bronze skin was crisscrossed with horrific scars, each one deep enough to reach bone.

In his sunken eye sockets, a pair of gray eyes stared out, cold as the abyss, devoid of any human emotion.

Kyle.

The first generation Blood-Pit Executioner of the Gray Cloaks.

Once a forbidden name in Europe's underworld.

Kyle walked out of the death cell corridor, his heavy military boots thudding with each step.

When he finally reached ground level, harsh sunlight—which he hadn't felt in twenty years—hit him full force.

Kyle squinted slightly, slowly spread his arms, tilted his head back, and took a deep breath of air that tasted of freedom.

"Twenty years... I almost forgot what this damn sunlight felt like."

"This world, reeking of blood, is finally back under my feet."

Just then.

The sound of footsteps crunching through snow approached.

"Kyle, twenty years, and you haven't lost your edge."

An aged but chilling voice came from nearby.

Wayne approached with two elders.

"Wayne. So you cowards finally decided to let me out..."

Kyle slowly turned, his gray eyes coldly sweeping over Wayne. "What's this? Growing a conscience? Or... ran into trouble you old fools can't handle?"

Wayne's smile stiffened for a moment before quickly recovering.

"Kyle, you jest. Back then, your methods were too extreme. For the Gray Cloaks' reputation, we had no choice but to—"

"Cut the crap."

Kyle impatiently cut him off. "Get to the point. What job could make you chickens risk letting me out, knowing I might come after you?"

"If the target's too weak to interest me, I'll crush your skull first."

Wayne took a deep breath and laid out Leo's story from beginning to end.

The destruction of the Drake family in New York and the Romano family in Chicago. Last night's massacre at Hofburg Palace. The deaths of Mr. Wheeler and two Round Table Knights...

After hearing it all.

Kyle went silent for a few seconds, then suddenly threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

His laughter shook the mountain valley.

"Reaper? Leo?"

Kyle sneered with utter contempt. "Sounds to me like you idiots brought this on yourselves! This 'Reaper' is just a paper tiger you've hyped up!"

"Elton, that loudmouth waste, and those Round Table Knights? Trash who aren't fit to lace my boots. They deserved what they got!"

Wayne's expression darkened. "Kyle, don't underestimate him. This Leo has real skills—"

"Skills?"

Kyle spat dismissively. "Twenty years ago, I single-handedly wiped out three Middle Eastern mercenary battalions! Over five hundred fully armed professional killers couldn't last half an hour against me!"

"Some American punk—how dangerous could he be? You old fools are just so pathetic; he looks good by comparison!"

Listening to Kyle's undisguised arrogance, Wayne's eyes flashed with malice, though his smile remained fixed.

"Since you're so confident, we'll leave this mission to you."

Wayne paused, testing the waters. "But just to be safe, we'll follow behind and set up traps on the perimeter. We'll surround and kill him together! This time, we can't afford any mistakes!"

"Not needed."

Kyle coldly cut him off. "Killing some American is all? You think I need you deadweight tagging along? I'll go alone."

Wayne's face immediately soured.

He'd worked so hard to convince the Council of Elders to release this mad dog who'd been caged for twenty years.

If Kyle went solo and something went wrong—or if he just ran after the kill—wouldn't all their effort be wasted?

"Kyle, I'm afraid that won't work..."

Wayne's tone turned cold, a hint of threat in his eyes. "Don't forget—you may be out, but the Gray Cloaks still have the power to lock you back up. I suggest you cooperate, or else—"

Before he could finish.

Whoosh!

Kyle's figure vanished from where he stood!

The next second, Wayne felt his throat tighten—a hand had clamped around his windpipe!

"Gah... guh..."

Wayne was instantly lifted off the ground, his aged face turning crimson.

The surrounding Gray Cloaks guards panicked, raising their weapons at Kyle.

"Anyone moves?"

Kyle's bloodshot eyes swept the crowd, and they lost all courage to pull their triggers.

"You teaching me how to do my job?"

Kyle's lips twisted into a brutally cold smile. "Say one more word, and I'll crush your windpipe right now. Send you to meet God."

"You think I won't slaughter every Gray Cloak's piece of trash here, then go find this 'Leo' myself?"

"Kyle... mercy..."

Wayne frantically clawed at Kyle's arm, his voice breaking. "I... I agree you go alone... we'll stay on the perimeter... won't interfere..."

Kyle stared into his eyes for several seconds, confirming the old man's fear was genuine, then threw him down like garbage.

Thud!

Wayne clutched his throat, coughing violently, deep resentment flashing in his eyes.

But he knew perfectly well—this monster released from the death cell was not someone he could provoke.

"Where's Leo?" Kyle asked coldly.

Wayne swallowed his humiliation, answering hoarsely, "According to intel, he'll be at an old church on Vienna's outskirts tonight. The Rothschild family has already deployed around the area..."

"Lead the way! I want to see if this so-called Reaper is worth my time."

Kyle cracked his neck, a twisted excitement burning in his eyes. "You wastes can hide outside and watch. After I twist that American's neck off, I'll settle accounts with you."

Vienna outskirts.

Cold wind howling.

An old Gothic church stood silently in the desolate wilderness.

In the surrounding woods and ruins, over a thousand armed personnel deployed by the Rothschild family had the place completely surrounded.

Sawyer Rothschild and Wayne now stood atop a distant hill, high-powered binoculars trained on the church.

Sawyer lowered his binoculars and turned to Wayne. "Wayne, you sure Kyle can kill that monster?"

"Relax, Sawyer."

Wayne smiled coldly, full of confidence. "Kyle may be a lunatic, but his skills were the ceiling of Europe's underworld twenty years ago."

"No matter how strong Leo is, he's still a kid under thirty. Against absolute experience and killing technique, he's dead meat."

As they spoke.

Kyle arrived.

The Blood-Pit Executioner who once terrorized all of Europe's underworld had appeared!

Kyle pushed open the church's heavy, rotting wooden door.

The grating sound was especially eerie in the silent night.

Inside the church, light flooded everything.

At the very back, a tall, lean figure stood with his back to the entrance.

Kyle stopped, his lips curling into a cruel smile.

"So you're this overhyped 'Reaper'?"

Kyle licked his cracked lips, his voice dripping with barely contained bloodlust and madness. "You're the American who killed the Gray Cloaks commander and the Round Table Knights?"

Leo slowly turned around. "The Blood-Pit Executioner?"

"You're ten minutes later than I expected."

Leo's voice was low and calm, showing neither surprise nor fear.

Their eyes met in the darkness.

An invisible killing intent collided violently within this abandoned church.